Last night I stayed in, and spent a fair bit of time reading over my paper for the conference this week. I read it, I timed it, and I revised it many times, and this morning I sent it off. Fairly quickly I received some feedback from the session moderator that was absolutely true: I had spent far too much time with background information, preparing the audience for my message, rather than getting straight into it.
I guess I’d forgotten the art of writing concisely for the spoken word. It’s now six years since I came “off air” to go into management. I can’t believe time has gone that quickly. When I used to be on radio I could convey a story or an issue quite concisely in just a few paragraphs. Now it seems, it takes me 3,000 words to say what I could say in a few hundred.
I guess it’s reflected in this blog also. When I began writing, most posts were maybe 100-200 words. Now I can pump out 1000 words quite easily. And on this trip, the words have flowed. So this morning I spent a few hours on a major re-write, making it far more concise, which I am now much happier with. But by the end of it all, I was a little frazzled.
Having spent the last couple of weeks concentrating on articulating myself in Swedish, I had to return to English. And not just Australian English, but in English with an international audience in mind. This of course meant keeping an eye out for any unintended, culturally-laden Australianisms which would not translate easily. Anyway, it was a good exercise and I enjoyed it very much. But gee it was exhausting.
And it was kinda weird to go back entirely into English language mode. I’ve been trying so hard to speak Swedish while I am here.
I have no plans for the evening. Maybe a movie? An early start tomorrow, as I am catching the train to Malmo.
Do not flush paper towels
Accidentally discovered Skype HQ
Earth Hour in Stockholm
The struggle of time, a poem in the police museum
Tissues in the snow
Train from Slussen to Saltsjobanan
Honey Honey bar and restaurant
The news from Sweden today
Royal Library, opposite where I am currently staying
They're amazing toilets, I said to the bloke who nodded in response when I took this photograph of the urinal at the newly refurbished Beresford Hotel, Surry Hills. I mean, you do have to explain using a camera phone when you're caught using one in the gents, don't you? I’ve had a pee in some pretty unusal toilets and places in my life. I’ve used troughs, long-drops, unisex toilets, and every combination of sit down and standup facility you might imagine. But even I was surprised when I saw the urinal at the newly refurbished Beresford Hotel tonight.
At first I wasn’t sure if it actually was a urinal. I felt a combination of tentativeness and embarassment when I proceeded to use it as nature provided. I was worried someone was gonna walk in and say “You’re pissing in the corner mate…”
As soon as my friend Michaela arrived tonight I said to her, “You’ve just GOT TO SEE THE TOILET”. As we walked down the stairs, noticing the elaborate design, she commented, “They’ve spent a lot of money, a shitload of money, on this place”.
When we arrived downstairs, we instantly struck up a conversation with a few guys who were similarly impressed with the facilities. They too, remembered the old days of the Beresford Hotel.
While she chatted with these blokes, I popped my head around the corner to make sure the coast was clear, so that she could pop inside and have a look to see for herself. For the purposes of “equality”, I guess I should have followed her in to have a look at the ladies loo, also, but it just didn’t feel right. I’m kinda old-fashioned, I guess. “Nice”, she said emerging and laughing “they’ve got this little shelf next to the loo so you can snort your cocaine without having to lean down too far. Very thoughtful…”.
Of course there’s a lot of the curiousity factor about the place, and tonight it was quite busy. This was a bit of a problem in the front bar where there was nothing to absorb the noise. Consequently we had to sit very closely to each other to be heard. All a bit too much really.
Instead, we spent most of our time in the beer garden which Colin has described as being “a little bit Villawood“. Even there, we got the feeling the place had been “over-designed” a little. As we walked in the first thing we noticed the series of “woven” chairs which everyone was sitting somewhat uncomfortably on. “It’s a bit like being in a university courtyard”, Michaela noted.
“You know what you need to do?”, we told the glassie as feedback to pass on to his superiors. “You need to put a few more of these booths around the space to make it smaller and a little more intimate. And you need to put a living wall of greenery up the back, cos at the moment the wall looks all a little bit Berlin circa 1980”. He smiled and took the feedback happily. And he was really nice.
In fact all the staff were really nice. Like really, really nice. We asked for some more bread for the antipasto and it arrived second laters. “You’d like another drink?”, they would ask, and it would turn up really quickly also.
The only downside is that it’s a little expensive. You wouldn’t go there with an intention of having a big night on the town unless you had plenty of free space on your credit card.
But of course the toilet was the main attraction. Truly modern. But also a little bit old fashioned in that they actually have taps, not sensors. “It’s such a relief”, I said to Michaela “to be able to turn a tap on, instead of having to wave my hands around uncomfortably waiting for the water to come out”.
The whole experience reminded me of my time in Stockholm a few months ago when I went into a bathroom, waved my hands around under the taps for three or four seconds before realising, embarrasingly, they had taps there too. “Toilets and bathrooms in pubs and clubs are so modern, these days, I guess I just assumed…” I told the guy next to me who laughed when he noticed what I was doing.
It’s Thursday night and I’m feeling a bit “hairy”. I’ve been experimenting with a goatee this week, but although people have told me it looks good, I honestly don’t think it works for me, especially as there are a few grey hairs here and there. I’m also desperately in need of a hair cut before the weekend, so I’ll do my best to see if I can fit one in tomorrow or Saturday.
Work of course has been busy this week.
Howevever, it’s also een a reasonably social week. I caught up with Michaela for some “wine time”, as we reflected on our lives, our loves and our work and last night, I went along to ABBAMAIL drinks at the Huntsbury Hotel, welcoming American visitor, Ryan Cameron.
One of my favourite moments, a real magic moment, however, occured on Sunday when Kate and I went to see the Margaret Preston retrospective at the Art Gallery of NSW this afternoon. Margaret Preston is best known for her still life work of Australian native flowers. Although I understand the historical context in which she was painting, there was not a lot to my modern eye, aside from the occasional beautiful work. What really caught my eye was her later work, undertaken in the 1940s and 1950s, when she discovered Aboriginal art through her visits to Central Australia.
What also really surprised us both most was the similarity of some of her later work to that of Chris O’Doherty (aka Reg Mombassa), especially since Kate was at the National Art School at the same time as Reg. Although I had a camera on me, I thought it was wrong to even attempt to capture the moment when Reg, himself, viewing the exhibition, looked at the “Adam & Eve” works by Preston. The moment was an incredible one that I hope will remain in my memory for some time to come as “one of those magic moments”. So if you’re thinking Margaret Preston is just lovely flowers, think again. Although most of those attending the exhibition were, as Kate observed, “women of a particular age and a particular class”, there’s a lot more to Preston’s work than you might instantly imagine.
The big ABBA weekend is on this Saturday, which I’m looking forward to.
And then next Tuesday, it’s the Sydney Blog Meetup which, I’m sure, will also be good fun. Speaking of this blog, I’ve been laboring under the impression that no one ever reads it, but it seems they do. I received an email this week from Cellobella from Perth, who wrote, Wow in one day – 11 people came from your site to mine – so thanks for the link! I get a list of referring websites on my site through this website: http://www.truefresco.org/referrers.htm. Amazing. So if you read this and have never commented, please leave a comment this week, so I can find out how many people actually pay a visit. Or is it just the same person 11 times over?
Today, I returned briefly to my workplace after several months of hospitalisation and recovery at home. Tomorrow is my first official day back (part time), but I went in today for a “test run”. “Does my security pass still work?” is the thing that goes through your mind after several months away.
While there, I found myself seated in a comfortable chair in my new office and took a moment to close my eyes briefly. During my time away, I had the “luxury” of being able to nap or take breaks whenever needed, given my circumstances. Walking on my prosthetic leg for extended periods often leaves me feeling tired, but a five-minute “micro nap” typically does the trick in helping me regain some energy, although occasionally it might take a bit longer.
Over a cup of coffee, I had a great conversation with a couple of long-time ABC employees, and together we reminisced about a former manager who’s no longer with us. Towards the end of his career, he became known for taking workplace naps. He was a wonderful man who made significant contributions to the ABC over many years. Unfortunately, in his later years, he became known for those moments of nodding off. Since then, anyone who’s come close to dozing off in the afternoon or during a tedious meeting has received an “unofficial award” named after him. It’s likely that younger staff members are unaware of this tradition, and I’m just hoping that the next generation won’t come up with a modern equivalent in my name.
Thankfully, my return-to-work plan acknowledges that I might need occasional breaks, and my colleagues are understanding of what I’ve been through this year. They’ve told me, they are more than willing to accommodate moments of “solitude”.
My comfy chair at home where I’ve been known to have a brief nap over the last few months.
Out in the street, people are unaware of my background of what’s occured, and I’ve noticed a change in their behavior over the past couple of weeks as I’ve become more physically active. I haven’t used my wheelchair in about three weeks and have been getting around in public using my prosthetic leg and crutches. Being at a similar eye-level to others, I’ve noticed that they are less likely to recognize and accommodate my disability. In the past, people would look down, see me, and make room for me on the sidewalk or public transport, but now they’re less inclined to do so.
Just the other day, I had someone walking towards me on the street who almost ran into me, and was likely on the verge of asking me to move out of their way. It wasn’t until they glanced down at my leg that they realized I have mobility issues. Of course, they were preoccupied with their mobile phone. On a bus recently, an older person had to ask a younger passenger (also engrossed in their mobile phone) to offer me a seat, as they had failed to notice my need.
In recent months, I’ve become more consciously aware of other individuals with wheelchairs or walking sticks, and they’ve noticed me as well. As we approach each other, it’s almost as if we engage in a subtle game of “disability chicken.” We assess each other’s degree of disability to determine who might have the “greater need.”
Fortunately, my workplace, being a government building, is fairly well-equipped for physical accessibility. However, I did encounter a couple of heavy doors today that I found difficult to open and close. Radio studio doors, in particular, tend to be weighty for soundproofing reasons, and often require the effort of opening and closing two closeby doors. It will be interesting to discover what other “daily adjustments” I might need as I continue my return to work.
Another consideration has been my choice of clothing. Given my senior management role, I’ve typically dressed in suits for the office. However, tomorrow, I won’t be wearing a suit. I’ve settled for a nice, freshly ironed shirt, and will be going as “smart casual” for the day, although I’ll still be sporting shorts for comfort and practicality.
Heading down to grab a coffee at work today, a man stepped into the lift behind me and immediately asked, “What happened to your leg?” I could see genuine concern in his eyes—it wasn’t idle curiosity.
I explained that I’d developed sepsis from a cut on my foot while on holiday. He shared, with visible heartache, that his brother was facing the exact same ordeal: a cut foot, sepsis, and sadly, gangrene, with a double lower-leg amputation scheduled for tomorrow.
The poor man was completely overwhelmed. We stood there for half an hour, and I did my best to offer comfort and practical advice. I suggested he look into the Limbs 4 Life Facebook peer support group and shared small, humanising tips that helped me, like the importance of getting out of the hospital for a trip to the beach or the shops. I also mentioned practical aids, such as a plastic shower chair and a bed bottle, which can make such a difference in those early days.
Hospital stays can feel incredibly isolating, which is why I’m so grateful for friends like Andrea and Ross. Taking me out for some fresh air at the beach gave me such a necessary boost and helped me feel human again. It really is the little things that matter most.
Since his brother is 68, he doesn’t qualify for the NDIS, and he told me they felt lost navigating the system. I encouraged him to ask the hospital for a social worker to assist with prosthetic referrals. We also talked about the weight of it all; I shared that while formal hospital psychiatry wasn’t the right fit for me, the peer support I received through a call from Limbs 4 Life was life-changing.
Before I finally headed off for my coffee, we exchanged numbers. I made sure to clarify that while I’m not a counsellor, I am always here to listen and share what I’ve learned.
It reminded me of a recent request from a friend in the US asking if I’d be open to another amputee reaching out. My answer was the same: I’m always happy to share my story if it helps someone else feel a little less alone.
I’ve been wanting to complete the official Limbs 4 Life peer support training, but life has been busy—and occasionally challenging, between a trip to Lismore and a hospital stay for a broken hip. I still hope to do the training eventually, though I sometimes wonder if I’d be any good at it. In the meantime, I feel like the best way I can give back is through my podcast, where I can continue recording and sharing stories with our beautiful limb difference community. And by answering questions from random people who ask you with the best of intentions.
When you’ve been given a megaphone to look after for the night, do you have any idea how tempting it is to misuse it?
It all started at about 6.30 tonight as I was about to leave work. It had been a reasonably busy and exhausting day and I guess I was feeling a little playful.
And so with just a handful of people in the office, I walked around doing “emergency warning messages” to much delight amongst those still in the office late on a Friday. And I mean that. If they thought I was being a wanker they would have told me.
Then, as I walked towards the bus stop with my colleague, Laura, she dared me to use it in the Devonshire Street tunnel.
The truth be told I would have loved to have used it, screaming at all the slow-walkers, and those people who can’t walk in a straight line. “Get out of the way, I’m coming through”, I wanted to shout, but ended up just saying, “hello” rather softly.
On the bus home tonight I was tempted again, but resisted the temptation.
And then tonight at home, I’ve had to stop myself from using and abusing it.
You know how some people “get off” on positions of power? Well, for me the pleasures are a little more simple, I reckon. Give me a megaphone or a microphone…
Speaking of which, I went delving through our archives at work in search of a few items from my former career as an on-air presenter. I’ve been able to locate some great pieces, including a lovely piece where I interviewed Dawn Fraser about moving to a property near Griffith. In particular, I love the opening line, “In just a few weeks we’ll know whether or not Sydney will host the Olympic Games”. That must be – what? – 1992 or 1993?
I did some serious journalism, too, but this piece gave me a giggle and so I thought I’d share it here today.
Obviously today’s experience with the megaphone means there’s a bloke who likes to hear the sound of his own voice, even now.
I went out for dinner tonight with old school mate, Anthony and his friend, JT, at the newly opened, “Benzin” restaurant in Surry Hills. Although we hadn’t planned to go there, a two hour wait at Billy Kwong’s, meant we had little choice. However, I’m glad we did, because Benzin is great.
Located in what was “Fuel” in “The Clock Hotel Complex”, the waitress told us, and I’ve since confirmed, it’s a “sibling” to Sailor’s Thai.
There was only one entree on the menu last night: deepfried prawns wrapped in noodles with a sour plum sauce, but it was terrific, so it didn’t matter there was no choice.
We chose three mains out of the menu of about a dozen choices, all priced around $18-25 and were more than happy with what we were served. There was a terrific beef green curry with roti, a sublime squid salad with cherry tomatoes and, best of all, a tremendous duck dish.
We were also really happy with the deserts which consisted of a variety of ice-creams, along with delicious mung bean tart. The secret ingredient in the mung bean dish was caramelised schallots, though the waitress only told that after we’d guessed, as she says they generally don’t tell people for how adversely most might react to an onion-based desert.
The wine list was also good, and even though we had two bottles, the meal, including a shared entree, three mains, and three deserts was just $55 per head. What a bargain.
